From the Editor: Gary Wunder
has a long list of credentials in the Federation State President of the NFB
of Missouri, National NFB Board member, NFB Scholarship Committee member, and
so the list goes. But his claim to fame among parents within the Federation
is not his status or skill as a leader. At numerous seminars for parents of
blind children throughout the country he shares many very personal experiences
about blindness. Although some of these experiences are embarrassing or less
than flattering, he considers them important to a full understanding of blindness,
so he shares them with frankness, insight, and humor.

The following anecdote from Gary illustrates
in a different way the problems identified by Linda Z. Thomas in the preceding
article. He brings to life the difficulties the statistics point to, and then
suggests an approach to take as we explore the questions they raise.

Several years ago I was asked to keynote a seminar
for parents of blind children. The theme was something like, You have a Normal
Child Who Happens to be Blind, and my remarks closely followed and reinforced
this theme. One thing that follows from this thesis is that children should
behave in an age-appropriate manner, and this begins with age-appropriate expectations.

The parents were very courteous and attentive
during the seminar, and one could tell that they very much appreciated those
who had organized this event for them.

At the end of my presentation I voiced a concern
which had been bothering me since my talk began. Of all the individuals who
identified themselves as present, not one was a child, though several parents
in the group said their children were teenagers. I hammered on the point that
teenagers were old enough to start learning about the special problems and skills
to overcome them that we were discussing, and I made a point of asking the parents
why they did not bring their children along. What I felt, and was trying to
imply, was that these parents weren't expecting their children to be age-appropriate
and their very absence from the seminar was but one indication of this.

In response to my question I received very polite
replies which together went something like this: Well, we just didn't think
it was the place for our children, you know with the toys and the noise and
the diapers.

It turns out that many of those teenager children
were actually older infants, their bodies maturing as they moved into adolescence,
but their minds remaining somewhere between the newborn and the toddler. My
lecture to them about making their children behave in an age-appropriate manner,
while well intended, was inappropriate. Those parents probably had made the
only reasonable decision possible, and even though they must all have known
I was talking about expectations which had little if any relevance for their
children, they listened with respect and attention to everything I said.

As I spoke to that group, the picture in my
minds eye was of my own parents and the information I wish they would have had.
What I learned is that while there is a place for remarks to the parents of
persons whose only real disability is blindness, there are also others out there
who need our help and who deserve to hear something from us about their children.
They need to understand that we care not only for the blind child who is employment
bound, but also for the blind child whose largest accomplishment may be learning
to move around the house.

We must push those who can be integrated into
the educational system and the work force, while at the same time offering our
love and support to those whose children cannot. Of all the virtues we wish
to promote in our work, let us not consign compassion to be last.